


And When You Talk I Just Watch Your Mouth

by alittlebitcloser



Series: You Bring Me Home [4]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race UK RPF
Genre: F/F, Part of my 80s dykes in London universe, Taywhora meet-cute in 1984!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 14:54:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30040401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlebitcloser/pseuds/alittlebitcloser
Summary: It was 1984 and she was itching for something new.It was 1984 and A’whora left that nickname behind with many a school rumour and a bitchy smile.It was 1984 and Aurora made the journey to London for newer, more fashionable pastures and higher, more painful rent.
Relationships: A'Whora/Tayce (Drag Race)
Series: You Bring Me Home [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1874350
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	And When You Talk I Just Watch Your Mouth

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been LOVING Tayce and A'whora on Drag Race UK and y'know what? I had to write them. My 80s universe is one of my utter favourites so adding them to it was a bloody PLEASURE, I'd find any excuse to place girlies into a 1980s setting sue me!!
> 
> PS: writing Aurora gives me all my northern rights I love it here

London was different to Worksop.

Mainly because people actually knew where London was. 

Worksop wasn’t far off Sherwood Forest, Robin Hood and the Sheriff of Nottingham and all that shit, but all you really found there was old bags ranting on at the market stalls and girls who got pregnant with the pride of getting a Blue Peter badge.

It was 1984 and she was itching for something new. 

It was 1984 and A’whora left that nickname behind with many a school rumour and a bitchy smile. 

It was 1984 and Aurora made the journey to London for newer, more fashionable pastures and higher, more painful rent.

London promised glamour, opportunities, and the chance to be whoever the fuck she wanted. It had delivered on at least one so far: an unpaid internship with Vivienne Westwood with a thankfully paid job at her store down Kings Road. She eyed up a choker that read SEX in golden letters, and promised herself that whatever didn’t go on her flat would go on that at the end of the month. So, opportunities? Check. Glamour? That would have to wait until she’d been paid. The chance to be whoever the fuck she wanted? She was working on it.

Her first day instore was met with skepticism on how she managed to get her hands on the internship, this small town bitch from out of town. Tia, coworker and Clapham native regarded her carefully, and Aurora eventually stopped biting her tongue in the last half an hour to suggest that maybe if she wasn’t so _basic_ she might have scored the internship instead.

So really, the rain wasn’t shocking. It felt a bit deserved actually.

Aurora’s exterior could be prickly, like a cactus that made you reel back after you touched it, coming off as though nothing could touch her. Because it would hurt them more than it hurt her. It was always easier to be a sour faced bitch back home, fuck all those girls from school who pulled her down, and strut around her in self-made wardrobe and permed blonde hair. Nose in the air, fuck ‘em all. 

Except she wasn’t there anymore. 

And maybe she would need a group here to help her feel less alone. 

Her Westwood tartan beret was gonna be _fucked_ out there. Aurora tore it off, shoving it into her small handbag and grabbing a brolly that didn’t belong to her on the way out. Apologising to Tia could wait because she might cry and that would ruin her make-up and - well. The rain might do that anyway. Just fantastic.

The wind wasn’t kind - in fact, it was an absolute fucking twat - and Aurora’s borrowed umbrella didn’t even survive her weak little run down the sopping wet pavement. Puddles splashed up the legs of her trousers, causing her to groan in frustration, and in the end she slammed the shoddy umbrella down and left it for dead. Hair left to the elements, all she could do was whine and try to cover her head with her handbag. 

_Was this too far? The station should have been here by now, surely…_

Stomping her foot into the tarmac - into a much deeper puddle than anticipated - Aurora gave up and ducked into the first warm looking place she could find.

The pub was shoddy, run down...it looked like shit quite honestly. 

The lighting was warm citrine and amber, and scratched up wood made up both the doorway and the bar. It didn’t look too different from the pubs back home, so while it was rough around the edges, Aurora felt a little tether pulling her further inside. She might have always been the odd one out back up there, but there was no place like home. Right? 

She grimaced at the sight of groups of men, softened at the sight of mixed up individuals in their twenties drinking pints and leaning into one another. The door slammed behind her, smacking her ass as it did and practically pushing her inside. The frizzing of her hair was louder in her ears than the raucous laughter of the bullish men in the corner. Aurora adjusted her dark blouse and felt for her earrings to ensure they were still there before grumbling her way over to the bar. She ambled over to a worn out looking barstool, bottom lip protruding and eyes downcast as she plonked herself down. 

She heard the Welsh drawl before she saw her face. 

“Rough day, boo-boo?”

The scrape of glass against old wood - a most definitely cheap white wine had been pushed under her nose. 

She nearly fell out of her bloody seat when she looked up because all of the things she’d pushed down to survive in a small town in the midlands, pulled out only on solo secret nights out to Nottingham, were unearthing themselves within her. The barmaid was a supermodel, no better way to put it with that Whitney Houston hair, even if she had opted for a brightly coloured tracksuit. Clearly her boss didn’t give a shit about a dress-code. Not when she had a face like that, the punters would be all over her if she wore a bloody bin bag. 

“How’d you know?” Aurora was very aware that her northern accent usually stuck out like a sore thumb around here, but there was something about having another person from _elsewhere_ that made her smile like a complete dope. 

That and the aforementioned fact she was gorgeous. 

Had she said that already?

“You’ve got a face like a smacked arse for a start.”

Aurora nearly choked on her first taste of the cheap as chips wine. No wonder she got it for free.

“Bloody charming!” She spluttered as the barmaid’s eyes twinkled, pushing the drink ever so slightly away from her. “That tastes like shit.”

“Ooh, c’mon posh girl!”

If there wasn’t a bar between them, Aurora would have shoved her for that one. She was a lot of things but posh wasn’t one of them.

“I’m Tayce.”

“Aurora.” She could breathe easy here, no one knew A'whora here.

“See? _Posh.”_

“Oh, fuck off.” She picked up the glass despite her earlier complaints and drained the last of it, pulling a face and faking a gag.

Tayce was a show-off. She played it up to everyone who came up to the bar and everyone who came up to the bar ate it up. Aurora was comfortable enough with her own predilections to know that she fancied her. She absolutely wouldn’t say no. So it wasn’t a shock when the attention she got from big burly cockney men rubbed Aurora the wrong way. They made her pull a face until one had the cheek to say _smile, love, it might never ‘appen._

Aurora scoffed and Tayce smirked.

“What’s wrong, baby? You jealous?”

Tayce’s eyes widened in a momentary spark of cheekiness. 

“Of what? Football arseholes who sweat lager coming over to stare at your tits in the hope they’ll get a shag? Not really my type, hun.”

“Yeah,” Tayce nodded, long fingers curled around the handles of the beer pumps that read Carling and Stella Artois. Her voice dropped to a murmur, and leaned forward as she said:

“Not mine either.”

With a wink (and on Aurora’s part, a prayer), Tayce stalked up the other end of the bar and left her to calm the fuck down. _What the hell did that mean?_ She ordered her next drink from the other bartender in order to catch a break, a smarmy East Londoner with a smug smile and a cheeky lilt to their voice.

A break? Fat chance. 

“You’ve been here a while, in’t ya? Somethin’ catch your eye?” 

They wiggled their eyebrows with their tongue poking out between their teeth in an effort to show that Aurora had been well and truly clocked. There was nothing malicious in it though, and there might have even been a sense of solidarity that was shown through their eyes and the way they over-poured her vodka. Their name was Bimini and they gave Aurora wind in her sails by mentioning Westwood, allowing her to launch into what she was passionate about until-

“Oi! Bims, you thieving bitch!”

“Right, yeah, sorry-” Bimini was pulling a pint, cocking their head to the side as they spoke. “I forgot you own the punters.”

Aurora simply watched as the haze from mixing her alcohol smoothed out the thoughts in her brain, although a part of her remained on alert as long as the voices of men could be heard around her. Tayce and Bimini were utterly in sync, snarky in the face of one another, and they had the full run of the place. Judging from their age, they definitely didn’t own it, but if they were left to their own devices who could blame them for having a bit of fun?

Seven o’clock blurred into eight and eight very quickly made way for nine as Bimini made a point of dealing with the opposite side of the bar. They gestured for Tayce to remain closer to Aurora, stuck their tongue between their middle and index fingers in a crude gesture that made both girls guffaw. Tayce reeled back in faux shock and told them to get their mind out of the gutter - “do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” - but Aurora merely smirked and stared down at the fizzing bubbles of her...fifth or sixth drink. _Sixth. Yeah._

She enjoyed a game of who could break eye contact first, dragging her tongue over her lower lip as Tayce frustratingly managed to win every round. She could still taste the remains of the grim wine Tayce had started her off with, and a part of her wanted it to remain because of how she’d gotten it. Aurora was aware that these thoughts were obsessive, bordering on fucking creepy, but Tayce wasn’t exactly brushing her stares away. Neither of them were acting aloof.

The threat lingered in the presence of….well, everyone else. Maybe except Bimini and that colourful obnoxious lot in the corner who kept shouting shit across the room with a flamboyance that didn't feel exactly straight. They were all loud shirts and round glasses, big hair and happy laughter. All Aurora knew in this moment was that she certainly wouldn’t be able to get away with snogging Tayce against the bar like the straight couple who just fell into her back and nearly knocked a full glass over. She huffed and rolled her eyes _hard,_ so hard that Tayce snorted.

“Don’t be a spoil-sport, posh girl.” Tayce drawled, and Aurora bit her tongue against the comeback she wanted to shoot. Something about the bloody straights getting to do whatever the fuck they wanted. 

“Oh, piss off hun and get me another gin and tonic while you’re at it.”

Their back and forth was never quite kind but never quite nasty, and Aurora admired the way Tayce moved behind the beer pumps as she pulled pint after pint, always gravitating back towards her.

And that was why her stomach dropped as soon as the golden bell rang to signal last orders. 

“Alright, you absolute hounds, drink up!” She hollered, shooting a wink over to some of her favourite regulars and pursing her lips. “Bedtime!”

Her heart plummeted from her chest at Tayce’s gleeful announcement, and she backed her drink to obey the orders being given until she was met with a questioning expression that said _oh no,_ _not you._

Bimini couldn’t wait to get on their way by the way they rushed the clear up and waved the customers away. Tayce had the literal energy of the Tasmanian Devil with the way she whirled and twirled about the tables, her manner somehow charming and saying _sling yer hook_ all at the same time. 

“Now I dunno about you, but I’m knackered-” Bimini expressed as soon as they locked the front doors, bolting them without even questioning Aurora’s remaining presence. Their announcement was far more shit-stirring than honest, and they exaggerated the yawn that went along with it. 

“Fuck off home then, you,” Tayce was pleased, as if Bimini had said exactly what she wanted. “Me and bitch-tits here are having a lock-in.”

“Oh, are we now?” Aurora pursed her lips, cocked her head with a raised eyebrow.

This bitch had some audacity.

She kind of admired it.

Tayce gave an affirmative hum, shooting a wink over at her that caused Bimini to audibly gag and make a swift exit. The backdoor slammed, and the last Aurora saw of Bimini was their leopard print scarf trailing behind them. There might have been the parting words of _horny bastards_ but neither Tayce or Aurora can confirm or deny the fact. 

And with that, they were alone. 

“You’ve got a lotta nerve, haven’t you?” Aurora stood as Tayce let herself out from behind the bar, making no secret of the way she looked her up and down.

“Who, me?” She gasped, feigning affront and not stopping until they were flush against one another. “Wanna see some more?”

“Uh-”

_Uh? Good job hun, really smooth that when this fit girl is literally coming onto you._

Aurora’s laugh came out in an inelegant guffaw of startled surprise as she realised Tayce had her backed up against the wood of the bar. The way Tayce’s eyes flicked down to her cleavage made her falter, her hand slipping on a beer mat before she steadied herself.

She caught herself, and didn’t allow herself to speak until it would come out with some semblance of cool.

“Come on then, babe. I dare you.”

Aurora had a sneaking feeling that Tayce was never one to chicken out of a dare, and that’s how they ended up kissing. 

Tayce called her _baby_ against her lips and twisted an iron grip into her rain-ruined perm, coaxing Aurora into chasing her lips with everything she had. It pulled a whine from her throat and made her push her hips forward into the body flush against hers. She was so many miles away from Worksop now, closer to the seedy bars in Nottingham, but most of all she was in a pub in London with Tayce kissing the life out of her. Her lips felt like flames and her touches like pins and needles that spiked so deliciously against her skin. She snuck her fingers beneath the waistband of Aurora’s high waisted trousers, and she cursed the way it so easily set her alight. 

Men had always seemed too...solid for her. They were tough chests and calloused palms. The only sharpness she had any time for was her own spiky attitude and Tayce’s cutting jawline that felt so right under her burgundy painted fingertips. She felt the spill of her blonde hair come tumbling over her left shoulder as she tilted her head in any effort to make the kiss deeper.

Brushing the offending beer mats away, Tayce helped her lift up onto the bar with obsessive licks and kisses and squeezes alike. 

“You’re bloody gorgeous, you know that?” Tayce was mouthing against her neck, and Aurora leant her head back in sheer bliss because it was soft and wet and everything that made her squeeze her thighs together.

“Yeah, tell me summat I don’t know.” She teased and cackled at the way Tayce swatted her arm in response.

When Tayce pulled back to look unimpressed, there was not a hint of malice in it. If anything, she was endeared. Aurora knew she had won.

They looked at each other for a moment.

And another. 

And one more.

Until Aurora became impatient. 

“Tayyyyyce.” She dramatised, sticking her bottom lip out and hooking her feet at the base of Tayce’s back. Her hands trailed over her jaw, shoulders, sternum.

“You’re a moany bitch, you are.” 

Aurora had a feeling that she could get whatever she wanted with that bloody gorgeous Welsh drawl, even when she was insulting her. She made a silent promise to never admit that to her.

“You should kiss me again.”

The twinkle in her eye got her what she wanted. 

****

It was 1984 and they couldn’t safely hold hands on the street.

It was 1984, and the girl from Nottingham was going to stay with the girl from Newport. 

It was 1984 and they would only touch again when the door was closed behind them. 

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr is alittle-bitcloser come tell me how much you want Tayce to step on you I'd love to hear it.


End file.
